


Looking For Recruits

by firefall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (don't you hate that), Boys Being Boys, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Genderswap, Misogyny, canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefall/pseuds/firefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis spun on his heel and burst through the door into the bright sunlight.  The last thing he heard before the door slammed shut was the cashier calling out, “You’re a frigid bitch, anyway!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He squared his shoulders.  Good.</i>
</p><p>Or the one where I turn Louis into a girl for the sole purpose of showing him just how rough it can be.  Whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking For Recruits

**Author's Note:**

> While Louis/Eleanor is the predominant relationship in this fic, Eleanor isn't actually present for much of it for reasons that will become clear. I'm sure she was going on any number of adventures and stomping all over the patriarchy in a lovely pair of stilettos (that she only wears when not standing next to Louis).
> 
> Set during the Australian leg of the Take Me Home Tour.
> 
> I don't own anyone in this fic. I'm pretty sure that's illegal.
> 
> Title comes from "Salute" by Little Mix.
> 
> *Note: I realize that a vagina does not necessarily = female, but as a cisboy who suddenly wakes up with one, that's how Louis sees it. I just thought I should make that distinction, just in case.

“So you’re not going to come and see me?” Louis whined into the phone, poking out his lower lip in a pout that would have been a lot more effective over video chat.  “We’ve not been together in a month, babe.  Remember?”

 

“I know, Lou,” Eleanor sighed, sounding both apologetic and bit exasperated.  Louis knew the tone well.  “But it’s dark outside and I’ll have to get a taxi by myself.”

 

“Okay…?” he trailed off quizzically.  He wasn’t trying to be rude…he just didn’t understand the hang-up.  It’s not like her hotel was all that far from his – it was supposed to be the _same_ hotel, but security had messed up the booking – and he’d cover all her expenses, of course.  He’d go to her if he could, but after the near-riotous reception that afternoon, Paul had told them in no uncertain terms that leaving the hotel would result in a pretty lengthy grounding.  Despite his affinity for wreaking havoc, Louis knew when to obey.  And this was one of those times.

 

“I’m just not comfortable with it,” his girlfriend answered.  “I’d much rather wait to see you tomorrow when the driver is available to bring me over.”

 

Louis had to admit he was a little offended by that.  He’d been so excited to see her and now she’d rather _wait till tomorrow_?  “Wait, let me get this straight…you can’t set aside your fear of the dark long enough to visit your boyfriend who’s been away from home for _weeks_?”  He glared at his reflection in the hotel mirror, his jaw clenching.  “That’s a little concerning.”

 

Now Eleanor just sounded frustrated – all traces of apology were gone.  “I’m not afraid of the dark!” she cried and Louis could imagine her cute little nose wrinkled up in irritation.  “This isn’t a relationship issue, Louis!  It’s an issue of whether or not I feel comfortable traveling around by myself at night in a foreign city.  Which I do not!  And I know you can’t understand it, but you _do_ have to respect it.”

 

“Whatever,” he growled, beyond annoyed and beyond done with this conversation.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, El.”

 

“Yeah,” she said shortly.  “Maybe.”  With that, she hung up.

 

Feeling on-edge, aggravated, and extremely disappointed, Louis flopped face-down onto the hotel bed, letting his face smash into the pillow.  He was exhausted from jetlag, long hours, and this new emotional strain, so he was out within minutes, his furrowed brow finally smoothing out as sleep claimed him.

 

_-_-_-_

 

The first thing Louis noticed when he woke up was that his chest hurt.  He was still on his front, face half buried in the pillow, and, for some reason, he felt a little crushed.  Groaning with fatigue, he flipped onto his back and the crushing feeling disappeared, replaced by a nagging in his abdomen.  He really needed a wee. 

 

Stumbling out of bed and trying his best to blink the sleep out of his eyes, he made his way over to the loo as quickly as he could.  Too tired to realize something felt off, he was caught off-guard when he pulled down the front of his sleep pants to find…nothing.  Nothing at all.  He stared down at himself for a second, eyes wide with disbelief, and then something clicked in his brain.  He started screaming. 

 

He ran to the mirror in a state of panic and when he saw that his facial hair was gone, replaced by a soft, gentle jawline, he almost fell over.  Nearly out of his mind, he practically ripped his clothes from his body, whimpering anew at the absence of certain parts and gasping at the addition of others.  He had _boobs_!  And other things, too, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge them. 

 

He’d just let out another ear-piercing shriek when the door to his hotel room flung open and Paul’s voice shouted, “Louis?  What’s going on?”

 

Not bothering to pull his shirt back on, Louis burst out of the bathroom and flung himself at their tour manager.  “Paul!” he cried, distressed to nearly crying.  “Look at me!  Look what’s happened!”

 

Paul, for his part, went red and pushed him off.  “Excuse me, Miss, but you’re going to have to leave,” he said, averting his eyes from Louis’ exposed chest.  “I won’t ask any questions and you’re not in trouble, but you’re _really_ going to have to leave.”

 

Frustrated, Louis threw his hands in the air, wincing in pain when his boobs jiggled.  “No…I _am_ Louis!” he exclaimed, feeling tears rush into his eyes.  He knew how crazy he sounded.  He wasn’t so sure he actually _wasn’t_ off his rocker.  “I _am_ Louis and I don’t know what’s happened but I’ve turned into a _girl_!”

 

Still staring at the ground, their tour manager’s voice went hard and annoyed.  “Look, ma’am, I’m not sure what you’re trying to pull, but if you don’t leave now, I’m calling the cops.”  Then he looked up and glared at him.  “And, for God’s sake, put a shirt on!”

 

Knowing how mean Paul could get when he thought the band’s wellbeing was in harm’s way, Louis couldn’t help but tremble a little, crossing his arms across his chest to conserve his modesty.  His voice cracked with a weird mixture of fear and desperation when he cried, “My tattoos!”  Nodding vehemently to himself, he thrust his right arm forward to show off the little doodles and the stag.  His arm was thinner and less hairy, but every single tattoo was right where it was supposed to be.  “See, look at my tattoos!  They’re all there…these are mine!”

 

That bid Paul pause.  Then his eyes narrowed.  But before the man could get a word in edgewise, Louis shouted out, “You met your wife at an auto shop in Dublin!  And she’s pregnant with your third child as we speak!  It’s going to be a girl and you’re going to name her Alana.”

 

Paul’s eyes widened in shock and Louis let out a sigh of relief, knowing he’d convinced him.  Their tour manager stumbled backwards and fell heavily onto one of the chairs, fingers going straight up to rub at his temples.  “What the…what?” he breathed and Louis just nodded, feeling that sentiment in his soul.  “How did.. _girl_?”

 

“I just woke up like this,” Louis whispered, his throat sore from all the screaming.  He swallowed hard, still fighting not to cry.  “And I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Well, you can start by putting a shirt on.  _Please_ ,” Paul begged, closing his eyes as if the sight offended him.  “That’s the first step.”

 

Knowing he was right, Louis scrambled to his suitcase, pulling out the loosest t-shirt he could find and tugging it over his head.  Even though it was baggy on his boy frame, it pulled tight across his girl frame, little points poking through the cotton.  He clenched his hands into fists, trying not to freak out.  This was so bizarre.  “Done,” he muttered, turning back toward Paul.  “Now change me back!”

 

The man shivered, clearly distressed.  “It’s so weird to hear your voice like that,” he said, almost talking to himself.  “It’s so _high_.”

 

Louis frowned at that.  “It’s high?” he asked, confused.  It sounded the same to him. 

 

Paul nodded.  “Yeah.  And more feminine.”

 

The two men fell into silence, neither one sure what to say.  Louis absentmindedly rubbed his hands over his stomach, noting that it was much softer than it used to be.  Wondering what else was different, he felt over his thighs and realized that they were thicker, then moved down his calves to find them less toned.  His bum was the same as always.

 

Clearly uncomfortable, Paul cleared his throat and rasped, “Well, I’ll just leave you to…figure yourself out.  But don’t worry, kiddo.  We’ll fix this.”

 

“Okay,” Louis whispered, hoping to God he was right.  Once he was alone, Louis fell backward onto the bed, letting out a tiny distressed sound when his boobs bounced painfully.  He could feel another panic attack coming on, but he fought it off.  First things first…he still really needed a wee.  And that was going to be interesting if nothing else.

 

_-_-_-_

 

The boys were surprisingly easy to convince.  At first they’d been skeptical, but when Paul swore to God that _Yes, Louis really is a girl_ , they’d accepted the news with a wide range of shock and amusement.  As they stared at him, four sets of eyes raking over his body with curiosity, Louis started to get a little uncomfortable.  “Put your eyes back in your head,” he snapped, self-consciously hunching over.  “I’m still me!”

 

Niall was the first to speak.  “So those are real, huh?” he asked, poking at Louis’ left boob not very gently at all.

 

Gasping, Louis slapped his hand away.  “ _Yes_ , they’re real, idiot!  And you can’t touch them!”  He face went a little red, his tummy tightening in discomfort.  “I’m serious…don’t get anywhere near them.”

 

Niall held his hands up in mock self-defense.  “Sorry, sorry…” he murmured, his blue eyes widening in a way that made it clear he thought Louis was overreacting.  That might have been the case, but Louis couldn’t help it.  They were his, even if they’d just randomly popped up this morning, and he didn’t want anyone putting their hands on them.  Especially without his permission.

 

Zayn was much more thoughtful.  He slung a comforting arm over Louis’ shoulders, careful to avoid touching anything personal.  “Are you doing alright?” he asked, leaning in to press a kiss to Louis’ temple.  He thought better of it at the last second, rubbing his stubbly chin over Louis’ soft cheek instead.  Louis shivered at the contact.  “Not going mental on us, I hope.”

 

“I’m okay,” Louis answered and it wasn’t completely a lie.  He hadn’t relaxed since waking this morning, but he was at the point where he was able to resign himself to it.  Even if he did squeak in shock every time he passed a mirror.

 

“I’d ask how it is to wee sitting down, but you do that already,” Harry said, his lips pulled to the side in a crooked smirk.  “So, really, this whole being a girl thing isn’t _that_ different.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes even though he knew Harry was kidding.  “Oh, darling,” he said, the sarcasm dripping in his tone.  “If you think the only difference between boys and girls is how they wee, I’m shocked you’ve _ever_ gotten a date!”

 

That was the push they all needed to fall into laughter, their shoulders relaxing and some of the nervousness draining out of the room.  Louis reached over to give Niall’s hand a squeeze, letting the younger boy know he was forgiven for his former boob-touching, then leaned more comfortably into Zayn.  He was feeling much better.

 

Then Liam just _had_ to be the voice of reason.  “We’ve got a TV show tonight,” he reminded them, worry lines pressing into his forehead.  “We can’t very well go up there with Louis looking like a girl!”

 

“ _Crap_.”  Louis’ good mood instantly deflated.  He hadn’t even thought of the implications of his transformation in terms of the band.  He’d been too busy freaking out about the fact that his dick was gone.

 

“You’re right,” Harry said, shaking his head, clearly a little distressed.  “Maybe we can do him up real manly…?”

 

Pulling away, Zayn looked Louis up and down.  Louis tried not to blush.  “I don’t know, mate,” he said, biting his lip in concentration.  “His body’s changed a lot…like even his face.  The fans will notice.”  Then he huffed out a breathy laugh, putting his hand gently on Louis’ shoulder.  “You seriously look like a right _woman_!”

 

“Thanks,” Louis spit, his stress returning.  Why _him_ of all people?  And why now of all times?  Couldn’t he have had this random gender reassignment over their month-long break before Australia?  It would have been so much more convenient.  Assuming it wasn’t forever, of course.  Which it wasn’t.  It couldn’t be.  It just _couldn’t_.

 

Louis was seconds away from hyperventilating.

 

Sensing his distress, Zayn pulled him in again.  “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed and this time he really did give him a little kiss on the forehead.  Louis found he liked it just as much as a girl as he did as a boy.  “We’ll make a plan…we’re good at those.  Let’s go talk to the team, yeah?”

 

“All of us?” Louis asked hopefully, loathing the thought of being alone right now.

 

“Of course, sunshine,” Liam answered sincerely, giving Louis an affectionate smile.  “Isn’t it always?”

 

Yeah.  It always was.

 

_-_-_-_

 

It was decided that Louis would tweet his apologies to the fans, pleading vocal rest for a terrible sore throat.  Then Niall would tweet about his female cousin coming for a visit – a believable story seeing that he had cousins in every corner of the world – hopefully giving the fans an explanation for the random brunette that would be walking into the studio alongside them.  It was a shoddy plan for sure, but it was the best they could do under the current circumstances. 

 

So as the other boys got ready to trek over to the TV studio, Louis curled up in a chair, absentmindedly holding his boobs.  They were really sore – he wasn’t used to them yet and kept knocking them into walls and forgetting to support them when he moved any faster than a slow walk.  He was starting to feel sorry for the girls who had to deal with them every day.  He comforted himself with the reminder that they’d be gone soon.  Hopefully.

 

When Lou Teasdale, hairdresser/make-up artist/surrogate sister extraordinaire, waltzed in to do them up, she stopped in her tracks to stare at Louis.  He couldn’t blame her.  Even though she’d been warned, it was a bit of a shock.  “ _Hello_ ,” she drawled out, trying to get her bearings.  “You look…different.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve got boobs,” Louis deadpanned, gesturing at his sore chest.  “And they’re awful.”

 

She nodded, finally gathering herself enough to approach him.  “Well, are you wearing a bra?” she asked, extending her hand to pull him up out of the chair.

 

At her words, the room went silent and their mostly male team turned to gawk at him.  Feeling their eyes exactly where he didn’t want them, Louis protectively crossed his arms across his chest.  “ _No_ ,” he hissed, embarrassed.  “Why would I have a bra?”

 

Lou clucked her tongue sympathetically.  “Well, no _wonder_ they hurt.  You’ve got some knockers there, boy, and they’re just hanging.”

 

“Stop!” he cried, hugging himself tighter and ducking his head as laughter echoed through the room.  He almost wanted to cry.  “Please stop…I’m begging you.”

 

The older girl turned to scowl at Louis’ bandmates and team.  “Quit your staring and laughing and being ridiculous!”  Then she leaned toward him and rolled her eyes, whispering, “ _Men_ …I swear!”

 

Before Louis could protest that he _was_ , in fact, a man, Lou grabbed his hand and whisked him down the corridor.  Down at the end, she pulled him into the hotel room that she shared with Tom and Lux and sat him down on the edge of the bed.  She went rifling through her suitcase, giving an excited _aha!_ when she found what she was looking for.  A blue bra with little pink polka dots all over it.

 

Louis’ eyes widened.  “No!” he cried, jumping to his feet and wincing when his boobs jostled yet again, taunting him.  “I’m not going to do it!  I swear I’m not!”

 

But Lou was already pulling his shirt off of him.  “C’mon, Louis,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically sincere.  “I know you’re in pain, babe.  This is the only thing that’s going to make it better.”

 

Now Louis really _was_ crying.  Annoying tears welled up in his eyes and he let out a little whimper before saying, “Turning back would make it better.”

 

She gently pulled her fingers through his hair, making quiet shushing sounds.  “I know, love.  I know.  But there’s no telling how long this is going to last, so it’s better that you don’t hurt yourself along the way.  Right?”

 

Louis knew she was right, but right now he just wanted to wallow in self-pity a little longer.  Way past caring, he allowed himself to indulge in a sniffle or two as Lou put his arms through the bra and then clasped it behind his back.  Wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, Louis grudgingly had to admit that it felt much, much better.  It was a little tight around his ribcage, but his boobs no longer felt like they were going to touch his knees.  When he jumped back to his feet, testing it, he broke into a smile.  It didn’t hurt much at all! 

 

Lou giggled a little.  “Good?” she asked, her nimble fingers tapping affectionately at his jawline. 

 

He nodded.  “Yeah, really good.  Thank you!”

 

She just waved off his gratitude, never one for sentimentality.  She dragged a chair over, placing it in front of the vanity and gesturing for him to sit.  “We’ve got lots of work to do,” she said, grabbing a comb to pull through his hair.

 

Louis wrinkled his nose, confused.  “What do you mean?” he asked.  “I have a bra now…what else do I need?”

 

“If you think those fans of yours aren’t going to recognize girl-Louis, you’re crazy,” she said, parting his hair on the side and pulling out some ominous-looking hairclips.  They were _sparkly_.  “We have to make you convincing or you’re going to have the scandal of the century on your hands.  I’m talking worse than Harry and Taylor Swift.  Worse than Harry and Caroline Flack.  Worse than Harry and Nick Grimshaw.  Worse than Harry and anyone, really.”

 

Louis couldn’t help but laugh.  “Alright, you win.  Make me pretty.”

 

Lou scoffed.  “Oh, honey…you’re _already_ pretty.  Now I just have to make you a girl.”

 

_-_-_-_

 

In the panic of the day, Louis had almost forgotten he even _had_ a girlfriend let alone fought with one, so when his phone buzzed with the message _I’m really sorry I hung up on you last night.  Forgive me?_ he broke into a cold sweat.  “Paul,” he hissed, glancing nervously around at the studio workers.  They were backstage waiting for the boys to finish filming their interview for the Daytime Show.  “What do I tell Eleanor?”

 

“Shit,” Paul swore under his breath.  He’d apparently forgotten about her, too.  “She can’t know…it’s too risky.  If she asks to come over tonight, tell her your sore throat is contagious.  Tell her you’ve been quarantined.”

 

Louis nodded, feeling guilty.  He _never_ lied to Eleanor.  She was important to him and their relationship was important to him, so he’d always made it a point to be completely honest.  It was the only way a long-distance relationship like this could work.  But he knew these were extenuating circumstances.  He had to do what he had to do.  “Alright,” he sighed, then typed out _It’s okay.  I’m really sorry that I got frustrated, too.  We all good?_

 

Her response was quick.  _Of course._   Then a couple seconds later: _I heard you’re sick.  I’m sorry, babe.  Want me to come make you feel better?_

 

And there it was.  Louis chewed on his lips, trying to fight down the guilt that was creeping up the back of his throat as he answered _That’s really not a good idea, love.  I’m super contagious…you’d be sick in a second.  We’ll try for tomorrow, yeah?  Or whenever I get better?_

 

He could practically read the disappointment in her words.  _Alright_ , she said.  _Yeah, that’s fine.  I hope you feel better!  Love you._

 

_Love you, too._

 

He let his phone drop into his lap, flinching when it hit his crotch before realizing that he barely felt it.  “I’ve really gotta change back,” he muttered to himself as much as to Paul.  “Or I’m going to have a very angry girlfriend.”

 

“What, you don’t think she’d fancy dating a woman?” Paul asked, trying to hide his smile.  It didn’t work very well.

 

“Nope,” Louis answered matter-of-factly.  “Not El.  Not even if she knew it was me.”

 

Paul just shrugged.  “Can’t blame her.  I wouldn’t date you, either.”  Then he laughed quietly, ignoring the looks that the studio workers were giving them.  “Even if you _were_ a girl.”

 

“Thanks, mate,” Louis answered, rolling his eyes in pretend annoyance.  “I’ll keep that in mind tomorrow when I wake up a man.  And then I’ll kick your arse.”

 

For some reason, Paul didn’t look too worried.

 

_-_-_-_

 

When Louis wakes up from a fitful sleep to an odd weight on his chest and none between his legs, he knows he’s still a girl.  He would’ve liked to be surprised, but he really wasn’t.  It seemed this thing needed a little bit longer to run its course. 

 

After he’d used the bathroom – sitting down, of course – he stumbled into the shower to clean his girl body for the first time.  It was weird and pliable and he found himself running his hands up and down his legs, feeling the odd smoothness.  Apparently girl-him was very well-groomed.  The thought would have made him smug if the phrase “girl-him” wasn’t so off-putting.  Like, he was literally a _girl_.  Sometimes he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

 

He was in the middle of rinsing out the conditioner, humming to himself, when the bathroom door flew open and a chorus of heavy footfalls rang out through the small room.  “Are you a boy yet?” Niall’s voice asked excitedly from the other side of the shower curtain.  “Is Tommo back?”

 

Before he could answer, the curtain was yanked open and Louis let out an undignified squeal, instantly dropping his washcloth to cover himself with his hands.  “No!” he cried, turning himself into the corner so they couldn’t see anything private.  “Does it _look_ like I’m a boy yet?”

 

He could hear the smirk in Harry’s voice when the younger boy said, “No.  Can’t say that it does.”  Then he added, making Louis ears burn beneath his soapy hair, “Can’t say I mind, either.”

 

When Louis peeked back at them, his stomach flip flopped.  They were staring.  All four of them.  At least Liam had the decency to look awkward, his eyes flicking down to the floor every few seconds, but they always moved right back up.  “Shut the curtain,” Louis ordered, unwilling to turn around and risk exposing himself.  “Please.”

 

“Nah, we’re good right here,” Niall giggled and Louis’ heart started beating a little bit faster.  They were just _looking_ at him.  Why were they looking at him?  Why couldn’t they just respect his wishes?

 

“I _said_ , shut the curtain,” he repeated, this time more firmly.  When nothing happened, he craned his head around to glare at them, shooting daggers.  “ _If you don’t shut that bloody curtain right now, I swear to_ God _I’ll tear you apart!_ ” he shouted, miffed beyond belief. 

 

“Okay, _okay_.”  It was Zayn’s voice and finally, _finally_ the curtain pulled shut.  He heard the boys file out of the bathroom, mumbling to themselves about _it was just a joke_ and _when did he get so uptight?_ and _someone must be on their period_.  That last one made Louis’ blood boil.  He was _not_ on his period, thank you very much, but even if he was, it wouldn’t make his reaction unfounded.  If people treated him poorly, they got yelled at.  That was just how it went.

 

He stood in the shower seething, letting the water beat down hard against his head until he managed to settle down.  Because, yeah, they were jerks, but they were his friends.  His brothers.  And Lord knows he needed some friends right now.

 

_-_-_-_

 

If there was one upside to waking up a girl, it was the fact that no one recognized him.  He was no longer Louis Tomlinson, millionaire boybander philanthropist, but instead a cute little tourist girl that just so happened to bear a bit of a resemblance to “that famous English boy” as he’d been told several times that afternoon.  Each time he’d laughed it off, pulling his hoodie sleeves down over his hands to hide his tattoos.  It was sweltering out, but anonymity always came before comfort.

 

He was nearly giddy with excitement, taking his time at souvenir shops and stopping to talk to shop owners and fellow tourists alike.  He was out in a big city all by himself for the first time in three years.  Paul had nearly had a coronary when Louis suggested it – begged, really – but after he pointed out that a bodyguard would blow their cover, the tour manager had reluctantly agreed.  Louis honestly hadn’t been this happy in weeks…and all because he looked like a girl. 

 

Being female sure had its perks.

 

He strolled along the boardwalk, his eye on a surfshop down at the very end, whistling to himself.  A big, black car slowed down next to him and Louis turned to smile at the passengers – four teenaged boys – but before he could get out a friendly _hey mate!_ the one in the front seat made a rude gesture with his mouth and shouted, “Nice ass!  I mean… _I’d_ put it in you!”  Then they drove away.

 

Louis’ mouth dropped open, his cheeks flaming in humiliation.  All of a sudden, he was very aware of the tanktop under his hoodie and the little jean shorts he’d borrowed from Lou. He breathlessly scrambled to pull the shorts down and the shirt up, trying his best to hide his assets.  He felt naked.  Even more naked than he had with the shower curtain open this morning.  His bottom lip wobbled.

 

“Hey, sweetie, don’t take it to heart,” a kind voice called from his right.  A middle-aged woman in a sundress was smiling sadly at him from her booth.  “They do that sometimes.  But you’re a very lovely girl…don’t let anyone make you feel any less.”

 

Louis nodded, trying to get ahold of himself.  “Thank you,” he breathed appreciatively, meaning it with all of his heart.  “I won’t.  I promise.”

 

The nice lady waved at him and Louis continued on to the surfshop, his pace much quicker than before.  He just wanted to get there.

 

  The surfshop was probably one of the coolest places Louis had ever been in.  As soon as he walked through the door, his eyes lit up, dancing along the brightly-colored boards and professional-looking beach clothes.  Liam would’ve _loved_ it there.

 

“Hey, baby…how’d you wander in here?” a voice called from the check-out counter and Louis felt his stomach twist.  A burly blond boy sat at the cash register, looking like the stereotypical beach bum and smiling at Louis in amusement.  “You lost?”

 

Glaring at the boy, Louis spit out in annoyance, “No, I’m not _lost_.  I want to look at the surfing equipment.” 

 

Beach Bum nodded a little too eagerly and smirked a little too confidently.  “Oh, of _course_ you do.  The girls’ section is in the back, sweetcheeks.”

 

That made Louis angry.  Why did there have to be two sections?  Everyone could surf if they really tried.  “I’m not looking for the _girls’_ section.  I just want to browse, okay?”

 

He walked pointedly over to a black and red board, running his fingers along the edges and checking the price tag.  Expensive, but really good quality.  Besides, expensive wasn’t really something he needed to worry about anymore.  He moved onto a blue and green one that seemed to be made of a different material.  Also good.  Also expensive.  Still not a problem.  When his fingers trailed along a yellow and red one, Beach Bum called from the counter, “Don’t you wanna look at the pink ones, babe?  We’ve got all shades!”

 

Louis bristled beneath his words, fighting to keep his cool.  He may be anonymous, but that didn’t mean he could start throwing punches left and right.  He moved to look at the next row of professional boards, seeing red when the guy sing-songed, “Those are _way_ too much board for a pretty little thing like you…why don’t you go look in the back?  That’s where the small boards are.”

 

And, just like that, Louis had had enough.  Pulling his hands into tight fists, he spun around to glare at the cashier.  “Do you _ever_ shut the hell up?” he gritted out from between his clenched teeth.  “You know what?  You can patronize someone else…I’m _leaving_!”

 

He spun on his heel and burst through the door into the bright sunlight.  The last thing he heard before the door slammed shut was Beach Bum calling out, “You’re a frigid bitch, anyway!”

 

Louis squared his shoulders.  _Good_.

 

_-_-_-_

 

Louis’ tourist daytrip had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.  Though it had been fun, the good was easily eclipsed by boys in black cars and beach bums in surfshops.  Truth be told, he felt a little sad.  And, as he’d learned over the years, there was only one person who could make it all better.  

 

“Liam?” Louis whispered, crouching down by his friend’s bottom bunk.  They were back on the road, so the boys were once again sleeping on the tourbus, squeezing themselves into the little four-by-seven beds.  “Are you awake?”

 

His curtain pushed aside a little.  “I am now,” he mumbled, trying to wake himself up.  “But it’s alright.  What do you need, Lou?”

 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

 

It wasn’t an odd request – a night they all slept in their own bunks was a strange one indeed – but Liam hesitated, blinking up at Louis owlishly.  Then he whispered, sounding worried, “It’s kinda like cheating, innit?  Since you’re a girl and all?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes, feeling both fond and frustrated and wondering how Liam could so easily mesh such conflicting emotions within him.  “No, you idiot!” he cried, trying to keep his voice down.  “I’m still a boy in my head!  And it’s not like we’re going to make out or something.  Please let me?”

 

“I don’t know, Louis…” Liam trailed off and Louis felt his heart sink.  He didn’t want to admit it, but he really _needed_ Liam right now.  He’d been chipped away at and now he needed someone to put the pieces back together.

 

Louis finally hung his head, knowing he’d have to tell the truth.  “I’m sad,” he said, his voice small and a little trembly.  “Can you please make it go away?”  

 

The resulting gasp was quiet and so, so sincere.  Liam’s hand was instantly around his wrist, fitting much more snugly now that Louis’ arm was so much smaller.  “Come here,” he murmured, pulling Louis into the bunk and settling his arms around his new, softer belly.  “Please don’t be sad,” Liam whispered, his breath tickling the back of Louis’ neck.  “Is this about being a girl?”

 

“Sort of,” Louis answered, melting into Liam’s touch.  “Let’s not talk about it.  Just cuddle me?”  He said it like a question, but he already knew the answer.  The answer was the same every time.

 

“Of course, love,” Liam yawned out, tightening his hold around Louis’ stomach and pressing a light kiss to his bare shoulder.  “Try to get some sleep.  You’ll feel better in the morning.”

 

_-_-_-_

 

Except the next morning he was still a girl and he still didn’t know why.  Waking up to find Lou’s bra digging into his ribs, Louis whimpered in frustration.  Hadn’t it been long enough?  He didn’t know what he’d done to upset the universe so badly, but he was ready and willing to get on his knees and grovel before any powers that be.  Annoyed, he turned over onto his back, trying his best not to jostle Liam.

 

Despite his best efforts, the younger boy’s eyes flew open and then widened in shock at the sight of Louis next to him.  Then Liam huffed out a tiny laugh.  “Oh man,” he whispered, knowing the other boys were still sleeping.  “I forgot you were a girl for a second.  You scared me half to death!”

 

Louis pressed his lips into a thin line.  “Living it is pretty scary, too,” he said a little bitterly, staring up at the ceiling of Liam’s tiny bunk, his brows furrowing.  “I just wish I knew why it happened.”

 

“I know,” Liam said gently, laying his hand flat across Louis’ tummy and stroking his thumb against the rough t-shirt.  “No matter what happens, we’re going to be here for you.  Okay?” 

 

“Okay.”

 

They lay there in silence for a while, Louis’ mind flitting from one thing to the next – concerts, responsibilities, _Eleanor_.  If he never changed back, he – not to mention the band and his relationship – would be ruined.  And there was literally nothing he could do about it.  For the first time in his life, Louis felt helpless. 

 

Louis sat up quickly, trying to fight off the fingers of panic that were squeezing at his neck and blocking his airways.  “I’m gonna get up,” he gasped to Liam, overwhelmed.  “I need to get out of here.”

 

Nodding understandingly, Liam softly chucked him beneath the chin, running his calloused thumb across Louis’ baby soft jawline.  “Take care of yourself,” he murmured, his brown eyes tender and sympathetic.  “Because we love you a lot, no matter what you look like.”

 

Feeling tears well up, Louis nodded silently and jumped out of the bunk.  He shot off a quick text to Paul – _still got boobs_ – and another to Eleanor – _babe, I’m really sick_ – before pulling on a pair of loose jeans and a baggy t-shirt.  He didn’t feel like being stared at today.  He just wanted to look like himself again.  The boy kind. 

 

Once he was all ready for the day – trying his best not to cry as he sat to wee yet again – he crept over to the team’s bus.  He knocked softly, his shoulders slumped, and was glad to see Lou when the door swung open.  “Hey babe,” she greeted him, seemingly unsurprised to find him still a female.  “You alright?”

 

“Can we go somewhere?” he begged, cutting right to the chase.  “I need to clear my head.”

 

Their hairdresser smiled understandingly, leaning in to brush his hair out of his face.  It was still parted at the side and as Lou stepped down from the bus, she pushed in a bobby pin to give it some style.  “You look cute,” she said, then added, “Of course.  Tom can take care of Lux this morning and we’ll have a nice girls’ day.”

 

Louis scowled at her phrasing, but held his peace.  As long as she didn’t try to paint his nails, he’d do anything to leave his worries behind even for a few hours. 

 

They decided to go to the beach, Lou willingly in a bikini and Louis forced into Harry’s tiniest swim trunks and a tanktop, and laid out towels in the bright Australian sun.  Lou had covered his tattoos with concealer that perfectly matched his skin tone, so Louis was well and truly disguised from the world so long as he didn’t let the water get past his knees.  He let out a contented sigh as he lay back on the sand, cracking one eye at Lou.  “Thanks,” he said simply, knowing she’d understand.

 

“Shut up,” she answered, making him laugh.  And with that, they dozed off in the sun, letting the warmth melt away their worries.

 

_-_-_-_

 

Louis wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but when he snapped awake his skin was pink and there was a giant shadow in front of the sun.  He sat up, a little muddled.  A man was standing at the head of his towel, grinning down at him.  “Can I help you?” Louis asked in confusion, shying away a little.

 

The man, probably around Lou’s age, just crouched down so they were eye-level.  “I’m Todd,” he said, though Louis most definitely had _not_ asked.  “And I was just noticing how red you and your friend were getting.  Thought I’d check up on you.  Make sure you don’t get burned and all that.”

 

Louis poked Lou in the shoulder to wake her up, nodding over at the man – _Todd_ – meaningfully once she opened her eyes.  She sat up immediately, her eyes narrowing.  “We’re fine,” Louis answered him, trying his best to sound firm.  He wasn’t sure how well it worked with his high-pitched girl’s voice, but judging by the way Todd didn’t move an inch, Louis figured it was a bust.  “We’ve got sunscreen and stuff.”

 

“Oh good,” Todd said brightly, pulling a dazzling smile.  “Do you want any help with that?” 

 

Without waiting for an answer, he picked up their sunscreen and squeezed a little into his hand.  Lou and Louis looked at each other uneasily.  Lou ventured a quiet _no, really, we’re alright_ , but Todd ignored her in favor of grabbing Louis’ arm and rubbing in some of the white lotion.  Unsure of what to do, Louis went stiff and let the man continue. 

 

“Relax, baby,” Todd murmured in a way that was probably meant to be soothing, but only made Louis more uncomfortable.  He shivered as the pair of large hands massaged the sunscreen into his small biceps and ghosted across his shoulders.  “It’s not a big deal.”  When Todd moved around behind Louis, working on the parts of his back and neck that weren’t covered by his tanktop, Louis mouthed _help me!_ to his friend.

 

Lou nodded quickly, a look of disgust entering her eyes.  “I think he… _she’s_ good,” she called to Todd from her towel.  “You’ve done what you need to, now you can go.”

 

Louis could hear the ice in his voice when Todd answered, “Why don’t you let her speak for herself?  She doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.”  His hands stilled on Louis’ shoulders, his fingers digging into the skin ever so slightly.

 

Cringing away, Louis shook his head emphatically.  “No,” he said as forcefully as he could.  “No, I…”

 

But Todd cut him off, his grip getting tighter.  Yanking Louis back by the shoulders to look him in the eyes, the man asked with a smile that made Louis’ stomach turn, “You don’t mind, do you, baby?”

 

That was the final straw.  Louis wrenched forward, nearly sprawling out on the sand in his haste to get away from the man.  “No, I really _do_ mind,” he spat, pulling Lou to her feet next to him and pressing close.  The older girl slipped a comforting arm around his slim waist, grounding him.  “Don’t _ever_ touch me again!”

 

Todd’s smile dropped.  He looked angry, his eyes stormy.  “Fine,” he said, his voice at a low growl.  “I know when I’m not wanted.  So I’ll just be on my way.”

 

Louis let out a sigh of relief when the man walked past them, but before he could say anything to Lou, a large hand grabbed his bum and gave a single solid squeeze.  He yelped in surprise, spinning around to see Todd running down the beach, his laughter floating behind him.

 

“And don’t come back!” Lou screamed after him, raising her middle finger at his retreating form.

 

Louis was too shook up to laugh, his hands trembling as he picked up his towel from the ground and wrapped it around himself.  “He grabbed me,” he said, his voice quivering and his eyes huge as he turned to look at his friend.  “He really _grabbed_ me.” 

 

Lou pulled him into a hug, the towel covering both of them.  “Sometimes they do that, love,” she said softly, rubbing his back.  Then she gathered her things to start walking back to the tourbusses, seeming to have shrugged off the encounter already. 

 

But Louis just couldn’t let it go.  “Why?” he demanded.  “I _told_ him not to touch me.  So why would he do it?”

 

Their hairdresser was looking at him strangely.  “Because you have boobs,” she said as though it should have been obvious.  “You’re a girl.  And when you’re a girl, what you say doesn’t matter.”  Then she rolled her eyes a little and amended her statement.  “Not all the time, of course, but with gross, babe-hunting dudes like him…well.”

 

“That’s terrible,” Louis whispered, his feet dragging as the busses came into view on the horizon.  “And it isn’t right.”

 

Lou just shrugged, patting him on the shoulder.  “We’re used to it,” she assured him and Louis thought that was the saddest thing he’d ever heard.

 

_-_-_-_

 

When Louis woke up a girl for the fourth day in a row, he wasn’t even a little surprised.  He just showered, this time making sure the bathroom door was securely locked behind him, and put Lou’s bra on once he was dry.  It was starting to become routine.

 

The team, however, was freaking out, scrambling to call radio stations and TV shows to reschedule and writing out formal apologies to the fans whose concert experience was going to be short one vital band member.  The fans were disappointed, of course, but most of them were supportive as well, tweeting him well-wishes and trending #WeLoveLouis worldwide.  If only he could say the same for the team – though Paul tried to be patient with him, the rest of security glared at him every time he walked past.  It was frustrating to say the least. 

 

Sometime around mid-afternoon, Louis noticed a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Thinking he might have eaten some bad food at breakfast, he hurried to the bathroom to see if he could get rid of it.  Nothing happened.  Confused, he went to flush and then froze in place.  There was _blood_ in the toilet.

 

He let out a whimper, rolling his eyes skyward.  “ _Why?_ ” he whispered, beseeching the ceiling with betrayal written across his face.  “It’s only been _four_ _days_!”  Then, hoping he wouldn’t be sick, he crumpled to the floor holding his stomach.  He let himself cry for a minute or two, feeling incredibly sorry for himself as his tummy twisted painfully and little spikes of discomfort shot up his spine.  This was miserable.

 

But he knew time was of the essence, so he forced himself to his feet and fairly waddled to Bus 3 where he knew the team was having a meeting – most likely to discuss his little “problem.”  Luckily, Lou was sitting near the lounge door and Louis stealthily leaned in to tap her on the shoulder.  “Can I talk to you?” he asked, feeling timid and embarrassed.  He could feel his face heating up.

 

“Sure thing,” she answered, quietly getting to her feet and excusing herself to follow him to the little kitchen area.  Once they were alone, she gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.  “What’s up, love?”

 

Louis stared at his feet, unsure of what to say.  It was so personal, so private, but he didn’t know how to fix it by himself.  Regardless of how he looked right now, he was a _boy_ …he wasn’t equipped to deal with periods!  Finally he took a deep breath and forced out, quietly so the team couldn’t hear, “I’m _bleeding_.  It started a couple minutes ago.”

 

Lou gasped, making him wince.  “Oh, you poor thing,” she cried, reaching for her purse almost immediately, rummaging around inside.  Louis wrinkled his nose, knowing what she was looking for.  “I didn’t even think about that!  But I guess you _are_ a girl, after all.”

 

“Only physically,” he protested, mostly to convince himself.  It was all getting a little too real for him.  At this rate, he’d be popping out babies in no time.

 

“Ah, found it!”  Their hairdresser dropped her purse back on the table and held out a tampon, waving it in his face close enough to make him go cross-eyed.  She unwrapped it for him and said breezily, “Make sure the string is hanging outside the barrel.”

 

Louis stared at the tampon suspiciously.  “Then what?”

 

“Then you shove it in, darling.”

 

That was just too much.  His eyes wide and his mouth agape with shock, he backed away from the little cotton stick as if it had personally offended him.  “Not a chance!” he cried, terrified.  “I am not shoving that _thing_ up my… _thing_.  No way!”  

 

Lou blew her bangs out of her eyes, clearly amused.  “Okay, okay,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to bite back a grin.  “I’ve got these, too.”  This time she offered him a pad, a little cotton square wrapped up in pink plastic.  Louis nodded, grabbing it out of her hands.  It looked a lot less threatening than the devil stick. 

 

“Just stick it to my underwear, right?” he asked, his blush returning.  He had never anticipated having this conversation.  _Ever_. 

 

“Yep,” she nodded.  “And make sure you change it often.  I’ll put some in a bag so you can have them with you.”

 

Muttering to himself – _she better not expect me to carry a purse!_ – Louis snuck to the tiny bathroom, sunk down on the toilet, and glared at the pad in his hand.  “Let’s do this,” he said to no one in particular, then got right down to business.

 

_-_-_-_

 

Stretched out on the couch, Louis had tears in his eyes, a heating pad on his stomach, and his hands clutched into fists at his sides.  He’d taken a double dose of pain killer, but still he felt like he was being stabbed in the abdomen, over and over again.  Why did it have to hurt so badly?  Couldn’t Mother Nature just send a postcard or something?  He couldn’t imagine having to go through this every month.

 

He conveniently ignored the little voice in his head that was taunting him with whispers of _who says you won’t?_ and _we’ll just see about that_.  That was just his hormones talking.  Or something.

 

When the team finally wrapped up their little “meeting,” they filed one by one into the Bus 1 lounge, looking down at him with authority written into their faces.  That is, until they saw the way he curled into himself, clutching his stomach and letting out little whimpers as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.  Andy was the one to break the silence.  Looking at Louis quizzically, he asked, a little hesitant, “Are you having your…thing?” 

 

At his words, an awkward hum traveled through the room as their mostly male team shuffled their feet and chuckled uncomfortably under their breath.

 

Louis rolled his eyes.  Honestly, how old were they?  “ _Yes_ ,” he huffed, annoyed.  “So if you have something to say, say it.  I’m not in the mood.”

 

Paul squatted down next to the sofa, bringing them to eye-level.  “We talked to management about this little… _issue_ , if you will, and they think there’s only one solution.”  He paused, clearly trying to collect himself.  Louis sat up on the couch, his pain momentarily forgotten.  When Paul looked nervous, you knew something huge was about to go down. 

 

“Which is…?” he prompted, his stomach flip-flopping and this time not from cramps.

 

Paul sighed, putting a comforting hand on Louis’ arm and looking him straight in the eyes.  “They think you should leave the band until you get better.”

 

Louis’ mouth dropped open and he felt blood rushing through his ears.  “ _Better?_ ” he spit, his face going hot with anger.  He literally couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “There’s nothing wrong with me!  I’m just a _girl_ , for heaven’s sake…I’m not _sick_!”

 

“But you’re not supposed to be a girl, kiddo,” Preston told him from across the room, as if Louis didn’t already know.  “This is a _boy_ band.  There’s no room for girls.”

 

Growling with frustration, Louis threw his hands in the air.  “I’m not an idiot!” he cried, wincing as another stabbing sensation shot through his middle.  “I _know_ what the problem is.  But kicking me out of the band is hardly a solution.”

 

“Well, to management it’s the _only_ solution,” Paul said quietly, at least having the decency to look apologetic.  “And, like it or not, they’re in charge of your career.”

 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Louis demanded, crossing his arms across his chest – gently, having discovered earlier how tender his boobs were from the hormones coursing through his poor body.  “This is _my_ life, believe it or not.”

 

Andy shrugged.  “Not when you’re like this, no.”

 

Louis wanted to punch everyone in the room.  “You mean when I’m a _girl_ ,” he said, his voice low and angry and dangerous.  Things were starting to fall into place and he didn’t like the implications one bit.  “When I’m a _girl_ I get no say.  When I’m a _girl_ I’m supposed to sit back and let a bunch of dudes in an office run my life.  Is that what you’re saying?”

 

Caroline, their clothing stylist, coughed from the corner of the room and raised her eyebrows expectantly at the men around her.  Next to her, Lou’s lips lifted in a little smirk.

 

“Well…?” Louis prompted when the silence went on for a few seconds too long, holding all the answer he needed.  But he wanted to hear them say it.  “Is it?”

 

Preston sighed.  “Yeah, I suppose so,” he admitted, looking both helpless and ashamed.  “But it is what it is, alright?  Management has spoken and you’ll do as they say.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Louis snipped, his blood pressure rising with righteous anger.  “Like hell I’m going to do as they say!  I’m not just _leaving_ the band.  There’s a better idea out there and we’re going to find it.”

 

Andy didn’t even try to hide his annoyance as he nearly shouted, “Would you stop being irrational?  I know you’re on your period right now, but at least _try_ to see reason!”

 

Offended gasps burst from both Lou and Caroline as Louis jumped to his feet, seeing red.  Frustrated tears welled up in his eyes and he gave Andy a mighty push that proved to be completely ineffective.  As a girl he just wasn’t as strong, a discovery that made him even angrier.  How _dare_ they insinuate that he wasn’t thinking clearly?  Since when had wanting to make his own decisions made him irrational?

 

 _Since you woke up a girl_ , the voice in his head whispered and all of a sudden Louis was _so_ tired of fighting.

 

“Just…shut up,” he mumbled, sniffing back tears and holding a hand to his forehead to compose himself.  “I’m going to sleep in the hotel tonight.  I can’t deal with this right now.”

 

Without another word, he pushed through the crowd of irritated men, fighting back the urge to flip them off, and made his way over to the door.  When he passed the two women, they reached out to pat his arm in a gentle show of solidarity, making him crack a tiny smile for the first time all day.  Then he was gone.

 

The room key was waiting for him at the front desk and by the time he made it to the fifth floor corridor, silent tears were running down his face.  His stomach was killing him and he missed his girlfriend and, for the first time, he knew what it was like to have his thoughts and opinions completely disregarded.  It made him feel small and insignificant and stupid.  It made him feel like nothing.  And he didn’t like being nothing.

 

Through his tears, Louis failed to notice the guy standing a couple doors down from his hotel room until a masculine voice called out, “Whatcha cryin’ about, baby?”

 

“Just go away,” Louis sniveled and shrunk away, a little scared and totally not in the mood.  He’d had enough of men for the next couple weeks at least.  He nearly plastered himself to the wall trying to get past the guy, his mind flashing back to Todd at the beach and the boys in the black car.  It made the tears come faster.

 

Just when he thought he was home free, a hand grabbed his small wrist and a voice hissed, “Come on, I’m just trying to be friendly!”

 

Louis wrenched away, his skin crawling.  “Eat shit, dude!” he cried, clutching his stomach and racing the last couple meters to his room.  Without looking to make sure the guy was gone, he slammed the door behind him, clicked the lock, and threw himself onto the bed, managing to save his boobs by turning onto his side at the last second.  Then he dissolved into sobs.

 

“I’m so sick of this,” he screamed into his pillow, knowing his voice was coming out high-pitched even for girl-him.  “I swear to God if I ever change back, I’ll never, _ever_ treat women like that!”  He cried harder, remembering how he’d waved off Eleanor’s fears only four days ago.  No wonder she’d been so scared to take a taxi by herself.  There was no telling if she’d even make it to the hotel at all let alone in one piece.  “I get it now,” he sniffed, exhausted.  “I get it now.”

 

He cried until his throat was numb and he was sure his voice was nearly wrecked.  Sometime around eight o’clock sleep claimed him and he drifted off, his face messy with tears.

 

_-_-_-_

 

When Louis slogged out of bed the next morning, it took him a good ten minutes to notice that anything was different.  He registered that Lou’s bra felt tighter around his ribcage than usual, but she had warned about bloating, so he ignored it.  His skin tight and his eyes crusty from hours of crying, he let himself into the bathroom and splashed water on his face.  He froze, his hands against his cheeks, when tell-tale prickles poked into his skin.  His heart rushing into his throat, he cautiously raised his head to look in the mirror. 

 

He let out an excited _yes!_ when, sure enough, his chin was dotted with a week’s worth of growth and his jawline was once again angular and defined.  Jumping up and down in unabashed excitement, he took a peek down his sleep pants and saw that everything was back to normal.  “Yes, yes, yes!” he repeated, wrenching his shirt over his head and reaching around to undo the bra clasp.  The undergarment fell to the floor with a quiet _thwack_ that rang with a tone of finality.  It was over.  Girl-him was gone.

 

Singing happy songs at the top of his lungs, Louis pulled on a pair of his skinny jeans and his favorite shirt, almost crying when the man in the mirror grinned back at him looking as masculine as ever.  He mussed up his hair to get rid of the part and, unable to keep the smile off his face, rang Paul.

 

As soon as the man picked up, Louis exclaimed happily, “Guess who’s a man again!”

 

Bypassing the sarcastic _you mean a **boy**?_ that would usually follow, Paul let out a holler.  “Oh, praise be!” he cried and Louis could hear things falling in the background.  The team was probably freaking out.  “Alright, stay where you are and we’ll send a bodyguard.  Louis Tomlinson is back in business!”

 

When Alberto – the only security guard Louis wasn’t angry with at the moment – walked into the room, he was followed closely by four bouncing, energetic boybanders.  “I’m so glad you’re back!” Harry cried, launching himself across the room into Louis’ arms.  “Doing all this stuff without you _sucks_.”

 

Louis laughed and hugged him tight.  “I never left, silly,” he said, smacking a loud kiss across his friend’s cheek.  “I was still me.  My body was just confused for awhile.”

 

 Seeming to understand how important this point was to Louis, Zayn smiled gently and pushed Louis’ hair out of his eyes.  “We know, mate.  It was just hard not being able to be with you.  Four just isn’t enough.”  Then he pulled him to his side, squeezing him so full of love Louis kind of wanted to cry.  It’d been so hard feeling disconnected from them for so long. 

 

Next Liam all but swept him off his feet, using his superior height and strength to his advantage when Louis kicked and squealed, “Put me down, you idiot!  I’m not small anymore!” 

 

That only made Liam laugh and the taller boy hoisted Louis over his shoulder as if to prove him wrong.  From where Louis was hanging upside down, he grinned at Niall who was nearly weeing himself laughing.  “Welcome back, bro,” the Irish boy giggled, looking like sunshine and sounding like home.  “We love you so much.”

 

“Boy or not,” Zayn threw in quickly, helping Louis down from his perilous perch and making him smile gratefully.  Zayn always knew just what to say.

 

“You boys ready?” Alberto asked from the doorway and Louis blinked.  He’d almost forgotten the bodyguard was there.  “I don’t want to rush you or anything, but a very impatient girlfriend is waiting on Bus 1.”

 

Hearing that, Louis let out a whoop and tore away from the boys.  He was ten steps ahead of Alberto and his friends the whole way, so incredibly glad Eleanor hadn’t given up and gone back home.  He had _so_ much to apologize for.  He didn’t even know where to start.

 

The second he burst into the tourbus, all hell broke loose.  The team starting yelling and congratulating him for “getting better,” and as much as Louis wanted to correct them – because he wasn’t sick, he was just a _girl_ , dang it! – he knew he had to let it go.  There were more important things to worry about.

 

“Eleanor!” he cried, running over to lift her off the ground and spin her around.  She laughed, the air rich with the sound of it, and he kissed her all over – her cheeks, her forehead, her cute little nose – leaving her lips for when they didn’t have an audience.  “I’m so sorry,” he told her, finally putting her back down.  “I’m sorry for all those things I said.”

 

She just gave a tiny shrug and smiled at him, her brown eyes happy.  “It’s no big deal, Louis.  Don’t worry about it.  I know you were just disappointed.”

 

As the team filed out, he took her hands in both of his.  “No,” he disagreed, shaking his head emphatically.  “It’s a _huge_ deal, El.  I get it now…I get why you were scared.  And I’ll never, _ever_ discount that again.”

 

Eleanor was looking at him closely, curiosity written in her eyes.  “Okay,” she said slowly, seeming a little surprised.  “I really appreciate that, Lou.  More than you know.”

 

Unable to hold back anymore, Louis pressed close and kissed her right on the mouth.  She giggled against his lips, pushing back and twining her fingers into the back of his hair.  She jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist and he held her firmly beneath her thighs.  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered between kisses.  “And so precious and worth so incredibly much.  People should treat you right always.”  He pressed one last kiss to her graceful jawline and repeated in a whisper, “Always.”

 

Overwhelmed, his girlfriend buried her face in his neck.  “What’s gotten into _you_?” she whispered, her breath tickling his skin and making him shiver.  Her fingers drew lazy shapes into his back and he held her tighter, pretty overwhelmed himself and not wanting to drop her.  “I love you,” she added.

 

“I love you, too,” Louis said thickly, wondering when he’d started to get teary.  His mind was just full of pictures – of men on the beach and boys in cars and discarded feelings and entire existences made frivolous – and it was all too much.  Maybe he couldn’t change the world, but he could change himself.  For her.  For everyone, really.  “And I just want you to know that I respect you.”

 

She slowly slid back down to her feet.  “I know you do,” she whispered, her hands ghosting over his arms with the sincerest affection.  “But it’s nice to hear you say it.”  Smiling a smile he’d never seen before, she took his hand and pulled him over to the couch.  They lay down side by side, her fingers rubbing at his bare hipbones and his hands stroking through her hair, breathing each other in until they’d melted into one.  “I’m sorry you were sick,” Eleanor said, almost as an afterthought. 

 

Louis just smiled.  “I’m not,” he said and he wasn’t.  “It makes this all the better.”


End file.
